


Down Time

by UzbekistanRules



Series: Hanzo is a Nerd [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Genji is very frustrated with his brother, Hanzo is a nerd who likes Pokemon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 19:15:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13794414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UzbekistanRules/pseuds/UzbekistanRules
Summary: No one knows of Hanzo's secret love. He hopes to keep it that way.





	Down Time

**Author's Note:**

> HANZO IS A NERD AND IT PAINS ME THAT NO ONE ACKNOWLEDGES THAT!!!
> 
> ALSO IF YOU HAVEN'T READ [AFTERDROP](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8777605) BY CLARO QUE QUIZA YOU ARE MISSING OUT!!!!

In all honesty, the mall was not Hanzo’s preferred place to be. Too noisy, too crowded, too easy to hide potential assassins in the masses. How he came to be a part of this particular group, he had no idea.

No- that was a lie. He knew the exact way he found himself here. Lucio had suggested it to Hana, who asked Mei, who begged Genji, who had _ordered_ him... and who was he to deny his brother anything? So here he sat, food untouched before him from somewhere that dared to say it served Chinese. As the four chattered around him and the food court buzzed with people behind him, he couldn’t but help feel as if he were a fraud. He should not be here; not in the midst of all of these happy, cheerful, _youthful_ faces. A chaperone for adults was as ridiculous as it sounded. He had to snort mentally at the image it conjured up- an old man herding slightly younger people about so they didn’t get lost.

Perhaps a better term would be ‘undercover bodyguard.’ Though Hana and Lucio both were as inconspicuous as they could make themselves- Hanzo would have been more than happy to help on that front- they had been approached several times throughout the morning by fans who had seen through their ‘disguises.’ Perhaps that was why Genji had ‘invited’ him to come along in the first place. If so, he had done a terrible job of guarding the two. It wasn’t like him to be sloppy and lax. That was always-

Quickly, Hanzo looked around, trying to discern patterns in the milling crowds. No one stood out as particularly shady or frantic... but one never knew, in his line of work. It took only but a moment of carelessness to bring everything down. Hanzo lived for the moments of other people’s lapses, had made a living fatally exposing weakness in others, did his duty by watching. So that is what he did now. He would watch their backs so they could spend a nice, peaceful day as they should- happily.

Movement caught his eye, movement of a group to a particular storefront. Hanzo turned his head slightly, trying to gauge if the action was benign or not, if he should sound the alarm, have them all evacuate-

It was only about 30 centimeters tall, the teal green of its body offset by random patches of blue green over its squat form. Most of the height actually came from the verdant green of the bulb that lay on its back. Triangular red eyes stared defiantly above a low, wide smile. The effect was cute. It was supposed to be cute. In shops like those, all of the creatures were meant to be cute.

To its left, it had company. A crocodile-like creature, if crocodiles were small, bipedal, and blue with a ridge of red spikes down its back. Its mouth was open and its arms were splayed wide, but it was far from terrifying. And to the left of that? The franchise mascot. Bright yellow with red cheeks, a stitched on smile, dressed in a silly hooded poncho that was red on top and white on the bottom. At least there was also on display an elegant, cat like creature in a soothing purple, with a red gem in the middle of its forehead and a tail that bisected near the end.

Was it hilarious or sad that he knew the names of all of the creatures on display?

“-zo? Hanzo man-”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen plushies of Pokemon before. Thought it was nearing its 80th anniversary, the franchise was still going strong with over 1200 to collect. He knew of people that took the phrase “gotta catch ‘em all!” literally and faithfully transferred all of their Pokemon from one game to the next. People who had Pokemon dominate their lives- from furniture to underwear. People who played Pokemon professionally- both in card form and in video game tournaments. He wanted to go inside, see what stock they had within. It was almost too much to hope that they would have his favorite, but one could only hope.

“-be okay?”

But how could he justify the purchase? Winston would condemn him if he bought it with the funds allocated to him by Overwatch. Everyone else would mock him behind his back if he used cash. Even if somehow- somehow!- he could slip away from the group long enough to buy one, even if somehow he secreted it away for the rest of the trip, he could not display it. He certainly couldn’t _sleep_ with it. It was one thing for a child to have a stuffed animal they held to chase off the monsters in the night. It was something else altogether for a grown make to do the same.

“The tests weren’t concl-”

And yet Genji had all but demanded Hanzo buy whatever he wanted. Would that order still stand if his brother knew what he desired so desperately? Probably not. After all, Pre-Crisis cards were hard to come by in any condition. It stood to reason that the less foxing they had, the more valuable they became. Even when he tried to start his collection, something always came up that forced him to abandon them. The list was literally endless- raids, invasions in his cache, fire, sheer negligence. He had to give them up when he realized how futile the effort was.

“-naturally. If we try-”

But oh- he once had a Base Set Dragonair. Not holographic though- they didn’t print a holographic Dragonair in the Base Set. Hanzo used to carry it as an omamori, determined to keep anything from happening to it. And yet... the chain he had fastened the clear case to snapped during a job and he mourned it and its watery end. Sentiment. His damn sentiment left him grieving for an 80 year old bit of cardboard for a week. Just as he had mourned Genji all those years ago. But Genji wasn’t dead, Genji was sitting in front of him-

He blinked rapidly, finally becoming aware of the four pairs of eyes on him. He mentally chastised himself, wondering how much time had passed while he was wool gathering. Too much. Even a wasted second was too long.

“Hey Hanzo...” Lucio finally said, haltingly and unsure. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. Thank you for your concern.” Automatic and trite. That should have been the end of it all, but it was Mei who persisted.

“Are you sure? We can help, you know. You don’t have to shove it all down!”

Shove what down? No matter. The others were finished with their food. He stood with his empty tray- when had it become empty again?- and discarded his trash. The afternoon was still ahead of them, and he would hate to take up any more of their time than necessary with pointless worrying.

\- - - - -

Insomnia was a bitch. It kept Hanzo up far past an acceptable time, and yet he could do nothing but yield to its demands. Fortunately- or unfortunately depending on how one felt- there were always others in the Watchpoint who struggled with the same condition. And it was now that he sought out company, following the sounds of soft conversation to the rec room, perfectly content to eavesdrop on conversation and hope he could relieve it that way.

No such luck tonight of that, however.

Sprawled on the singular couch was Hana- fast asleep with a blanket thrown over her form. Soldier: 76 looked up from his place on the loveseat and gave a terse wave. The TV was on to a streaming service instead of a proper channel. He should find himself shocked, but given the disaster at the mall he wasn’t all surprised at the sight of a Pokemon video game tournament.

It seemed to be a championship match from the intense way the two commentators murmured in Korean. Still early in the match, if the Pokeballs under each name indicated anything. Lucario was an interesting choice, a good setup sweeper but would it be enough to out maneuver Sableye? And then there was the fact that Lucario wasn’t as good as Mega Alakazam or Garchomp when it came to its sweeping power. Then again, there was always the audacity factor, a bold move considering how popular other pokemon like Pachirisu, Drampa, and Smeargle became as unusual players utilized them to their own advantages-

He was startled out of his thoughts by a polite cough. Soldier: 76 was looking at him from behind the red glow of his visor. How disgraceful.

“Everything alright, Shimada?” the man asked.

“Everything is fine, thank you.” Though now he most certainly wished to leave. It wouldn’t do to bother the proceedings with his presence. Obviously Hana had been watching it, the Soldier didn’t want to change the channel, his awkwardness would ruin everything. There was no reason for him to stay.

“Come on. If you want to use the TV, do it. Hana promised a friend she would stay to watch his matches but...” the hand that wasn’t holding a tablet waved at the still, prone form before shrugging. “I’m just keeping it on for background noise.”

That seemed to decide Hanzo then. “No, this is fine.” Gingerly, he took a seat in an oversized, lumpy chair spread out around the television while the Lucario fainted. Two commentators spoke rather seriously as it was replaced with a more traditional Salamance. Silence reigned as Soldier: 76 went back to his tablet and Hanzo watched the battle unfold. Sableye fainted Lucario, Tapu Lele fainted Sableye, and a joint effort of Garchomp and Toxapex fainted Tapu Lele.

“You understand this?” the soldier asked suddenly, startling Hanzo from his focus on the match. How much to reveal? Nothing, if he could help it.

“Genji used to love Pokemon when we were younger and forced me to learn about it. When it fell out of favor for him, I stopped.” More was the pity. He had enjoyed the logic puzzle it had presented, of type matching and training, trying to be the best. The fact that his best pokemon were also cute or cool hadn’t hurt him either.

“I’ve watched a few matches and I still don’t get it. How can they tell that they’re good? Why do they sometimes have the same monsters but different moves if they’re essentially the same monster?”

Hanzo started to open his mouth and explain his opinions but stopped himself short. Soldier: 76 was merely asking as a rhetorical question. He didn’t expect an answer- or if he did, he would jeer Hanzo for his knowledge of such useless and unimportant information. Instead, he forced himself to shrug. “I don’t know. It didn’t hold Genji’s attention for long before he fell in love with sentai.”

“Sentai?” Under the red visor, the old soldier’s brows drew together. “Is that the porn or the ninja heroes?”

“The ninja heroes,” Hanzo responded quickly, trying not to allow himself blush. He could see how one got the two mixed up, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing for him to explain the differences.

Soldier: 76 grunted before returning his attention to his own entertainment. Hanzo was grateful that it seemed to be the end of it, but apparently there was one more thing to be said.

“Their passion is really something, huh?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

\- - - - -

It wasn’t often that the various members of Overwatch received mail, but packages came and went anyway. One such had been mistakenly placed in front of Hanzo’s door- one for the omnic monk. He couldn’t imagine what Zenyatta would need inside such a small box though. Replacement parts? Clothing? Perhaps it was a surprise for another member. But who? And for what purpose?

Perhaps the best place to find his answers was with the monk himself, for he was coming down the hallway toward Hanzo. He bowed and held out the cardboard box to the other, startling a small ‘oh’ from the synth.

“What is this?” Zenyatta asked, gently relieving Hanzo of the box and fumbling at the tape.

“A misplaced package and nothing more, I assure you.”

“Ah! Then it is the Pachimari I bought. Thank you for delivering it, misplaced as it might have been.” The monk struggled with the outer tape for a few moments before opening it and pushing a few bags of air aside to withdraw the prize from within. The half onion, half tentacle monster creature was rather adorable with its large eyes and smiling face but that is not what hit him the most. The body of the onion was a bright pink, while the legs were a soft teal color. The suckers were a darker shade of pink and stitched to the sides were bits of hangul reminiscent of D.va’s own sponsors on her suit. No... surely not. Surely it wasn’t-

Zenyatta bounced a little on his feet and tilted his head to one side, displaying his happiness openly. “A rare D.va pachimari. I have also ordered Zunba, Geguri and Fl0w3r ones, though it does not seem they will arrive just yet.”

“A pity,” Hanzo murmured, suddenly uncomfortable with this situation. He should escape, lest someone walk by and see the doll, Zenyatta, Zenyatta with the doll, Zenyatta with _Hanzo_ -

But the monk gestured down the hall, box in hand. “Would you care to accompany me back to my room?”

Hanzo throttled down the urge to grit his teeth. Zenyatta was Genji’s “master,” the one responsible this chance, this change. He was told to treat the monk with respect. He would extend courtesy to the omnic, no matter how much he wished not to.

“I would like to,” Hanzo found himself saying in a neutral tone, grateful for his years of self control and discipline. His exterior betrayed little of his emotional turmoil as he walked alongside Zenyatta, neither ahead or behind. As if they were equals! A laughable notion, at best.

Thankfully it was a rather short distance to the correct door, and soon he would not have to suffer the presence any longer. A few words exchanged, a few noises of politeness and Hanzo would be able to retreat. What he was not expecting was the feature wall when Zenyatta opened the door to his room. Save for a tiny window to let in the cool Gibraltar winds, it was covered in shelves _covered_ in Pachimari. The groupings seemed to have no order at first glance, but all were obnoxiously bright and gratingly cheery.

“Would you help me find a space for this one? I may have to request more shelving units from Torbjörn...”

Even as Hanzo stepped inside to follow the order, he was stupefied at how large a collection it was. It was not on just one wall but three of the four, with all sorts of shapes and sizes laid out for people to admire. From tiny ones meant to hang on cell phones to a giant Pachimari meant to be laid on, Zenyatta seemed to have them all. Only seemed though, for he had mentioned more were on the way...

“How many _are_ there?” Hanzo blurted out and immediately regretted it.

“53...7,” Zenyatta replied smoothly, even as he continued to spin slowly in place to find an open spot on the rather cramped shelves. “When the last three arrive, of course.”

“Of course,” Hanzo echoed dully. And on a second examination, it was not _all_ pachimari. There were a few books, a few scrolls, and other knick knacks obviously picked up from travel on the shelves where the collection was thinner. “Perhaps there...?”

Zenyatta followed his finger and tilted his head. “Ah! An excellent idea. Thank you for your help.” He moved over to the shelf and set it on top, admired it for a few moments before he rotated it so it was more natural. And Hanzo had to admit- it did look like it belonged there.

Something seized Hanzo’s chest. “You’re most welcome. Please excuse me-” He bowed and saw himself out, numb with the number of revelations had over the past months with Overwatch. Why did Zenyatta have so much in the way of Pachimari? Why was it not hidden? Did no one care that so much of his time and energy went into something that- in the end- did not matter?

Hanzo went back to his own room and winced at what a stark contrast there was between the two. Comparatively, it was barren. Nothing on the shelves, no art hung, no rug to cushion the floor. Just a low shelf that served as an altar under the window, the standard desk and bed. His own personal items weren’t strewn about, but were all safely tucked into his suitcase and cello case, currently standing in a forlorn corner.

He had been told to make this space his home. Little did anyone realize what that meant. In his youth, his room had been as barren as the one he currently occupied and his profession did not encourage the collection of useless possessions. When he had been younger, it had been different, of course. Anything that was taboo for a Shimada heir to have had been placed in Genji’s care... only for his brother to give in away or sell when it no longer interested him.

Jealousy, white hot and bitter lanced through him. Only Hokkaido had come close to him making a home, and that too had been ripped from him. He had found quiet there- if not peace- and now he was forced to remain with people who could care nothing for him. When would it be enough? Was his life, his possessions not enough? Must Genji too take his sanity and his dignity before he would be satisfied, like he had when they were boys? Logic dictated “yes” even as his pride screamed “no.”

In the end, it didn’t matter. Genji would do as he wished until he got bored. Until he came to his senses. The farce would end and he would take his revenge. Nothing would change that. Hanzo suffered at Genji’s hand. Hanzo lived and died at Genji’s hand. Hanzo obeyed meekly until that day came, and sooner rather than later.

At least with the current accommodations, there would be little for his brother to linger over. It would be ridiculously easy for a more worthy occupant to take his room over.

The thoughts only quelled his emotions imperfectly.

\- - - - -

“Shimada! Hey, Shimada!”

Hanzo barely kept himself from sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. Life had been peaceful in the Watchpoint while the cowboy had been away on the mission in New York. Little hope it would stay that way in December, now that most of the various missions were starting to wrap up and the small band was regrouping for Christmas and the New Year.

He turned just as Jesse came up beside him, panting, but in good cheer. What was the cowboy planning...?

“Hey! Glad I caught you when I did. I’m figuring you’re type of person who don’t like a lot of fuss, and Genji remembered you liking it as a kid-”

“Whatever it is, it is not necessary,” Hanzo said quickly, dismayed that Jesse would go out of his way to do... whatever this was. Was this something that Genji forced the cowboy to do? It would be just like his brother. “I will be fine, good day.”

“Now hold up! I’m just trying to give you a fair shake. If you don’t want it, no harm no foul. I’ll just take it back and get a refund.”

Hanzo wanted to tell him to take it back now, get a refund now, but that would be both impolite and improper. Hanzo wasn’t _that_ ungrateful and that rude. Still, he wished that McCree would simply leave him alone. Whatever this was, it was probably only another ploy of McCree’s.

The package was tiny, no larger than the palm of his hand, wrapped brightly in red and green paper with little reindeer heads dotted around on it. Hanzo was apprehensive about this gift because he had nothing to return it with. What did the cowboy want? And most importantly- what was so tiny that it was wrapped this way?

“Be careful opening it. It’s real small-like.”

What was it? Now that Hanzo’s curiosity was piqued, he could no more leave it alone than to stop breathing. He turned it over in his hand and felt the package within shift slightly. Curious. So it was loose? It would explain the cowboy’s caution. He picked at the singular piece of tape until it peeled back and let go from the paper with a satisfying ‘pop!’

It was tiny on the white background the paper presented. From the blue string looped at the metal circle between two of its fins was a fish, blue and tan and fierce and proud. He didn’t even expect this from someone, much less the cowboy. What was he playing at?

Still... the Gyarados was nice. Metal with enamel parts. And the little lanyard, in a pleasing shade of blue to compliment the enamel scales. This was... far more than what he expected. He expected a cruel joke or something impractical. Not that this wasn’t but...

Hanzo’s thumb stroked the ridges as his mind settled a bit. This was far more than he expected of McCree. “Thank you,” he finally managed to choke out. This was such a thoughtful gift, how could he possibly be expected to top it off?

“Like I said, if you don’t like it-” Hanzo cut McCree off before he could say anything more.

“No. This is... I will take it. Thank you for thinking of me. Good day.” He had to leave before McCree saw his weakness, the wish to cry over something so ultimately silly. Fortunately the cowboy did not follow him as he made his way back to his room, to curl up in his lonely little space with the only thing to soften it held in the palm of his hand. Such a small thing, but the thought was immense.

Hanzo owed Jesse McCree grately for this.

\- - - - -

Christmas had never been his favorite holiday. Even though in his own home it had been a time for his family to come together, it never felt that way. The elders would lecture, his mother would smile, and his father usually was off doing something else. And Genji- of course- always made a nuisance of himself. It had never been anything more than a reminder of the Shimada’s power and Hanzo’s duty when he was old enough to participate in the backroom dealings of the Shimada.

He also hated this time of year because he would be expected to get everyone on the base gifts. Why though? He did not know them and _they_ did not want to know _him_. And yet as the days ticked by, ever forward to that fated holiday, he found things to gift to the others. Decent liquors for McCree and Soldier: 76, a Japan-only pachimari for Zenyatta, a very fine whetstone for his brother, some gourmet foods for Winston... The list was endless. And what would he get in return? Nothing, if they were smart. This was merely an appeasement tactic, brought on by a desire for pity. Pity which should not- and never should be- granted.

The party was _terribly_ loud. All of the agents- all fourteen of them- were crammed into what once was a conference room with clashing foods, music, loud conversation and even louder laughter. A metallic pine tree had been set up in a corner of the room, presents crammed underneath and most poorly wrapped. At least Hanzo’s own were tactfully wrapped using the leftovers gleaned from Pharah’s desperate last minute purchases.

It left him standing awkwardly in a corner, a small plate of food in one hand that he took to be polite and a glass of unspiked punch in the other. He watched the others laugh and play and make small talk. He watched Hana spike the punch and Mei take some with a grateful wink to the video game star. He saw Reinhardt nearly stagger Zenyatta with a hearty clap to his shoulder. He heard Torbjörn gently chastise a SST Laboratories E54 model omnic which had promptly been dubbed ‘Bastion.’ The large, bulky unit was currently trying to hold a nearly comically undersized cup in its hand to allow the yellow bird that stayed by its side to drink from it. Torbjörn was taking offense at the bird but neither it nor the bird would be moved by anything other than violence. Tracer diffused the situation by pulling the mechanic away from the unit with some silly little quip about the lights or the decorations. He didn’t actually catch what she said, only that she managed to pull the old man away to leave the unit alone.

Though he stayed on the fringes of the party, it was... nice, in a way similar parties in his childhood had not been. At first it _had_ been when he was small, with groups of adults coming to shake his hand and speak to his mother about things he didn’t understand. Even as he grew in both age and wisdom, he never enjoyed the parties he was dragged to. Too many people. Too many people wanting things from him. Only Genji had made things bearable for him.

Movement caught his eye and he watched as everyone moved to the tree to distribute the presents under it. Hanzo had made sure that though his presents were labeled clearly, but he didn’t actually put his own name on them. On the contrary- he made sure that they all seemed like they came from others not currently at the party. Hanzo was a deft hand at forging writing, and with such unique presents he hoped against all hope that there would be no awkward questions as to where his own seasonal offerings were.

He watched as people cooed and awed over the gifts. He watched the mild confusion on people’s faces as his packages were opened but they were quickly glossed over. As it should be. And while people were opening the presents, he slowly shuffled on the back wall, determined to get away as quickly as possible without alerting anyone to his desertion.

“Hanzo? Hanzo, where are you?” Tracer was trying to single him out. “Love, we got presents for ya!”

Surely not. Not like McCree had a present for him. It was probably a useless present or a mean-spirited one. He wished for neither on this day. The former would make him angry and upset that someone spent money on it,while the latter would only be tolerated if it had been Genji’s wish for him to have it. Hanzo would not put it past Genji to give kitty panties or a lacy bra or something equally humiliating that he would have no choice but to accept, degrading and emasculating as it would be.

Yet he knew his place. He stepped forward, into the curious gazes of his teammates. Uncomfortable, to say the least. Still- Tracer held out two presents for him, both of the same proportions and wrapped in somewhat muted paper. “Happy Christmas, love!” she said as Hanzo set aside his drink and food and took both of them in hand. It was light but bulky and about the size of a picture frame.

He had no idea what it could be.

With serious trepidation, he set one of them against his artificial shins and opened the other.

But of course, he did not expect this. How could he? How could he possibly imagine someone finding them all, buying them all, displaying them proudly in a picture frame? Each and every Dratini card that had ever been printed in Japanese was there in a 6 by 6 configuration. Even the Pre-Crisis cards- worth thousands of dollars in this condition. The Secret Rare Dratini from the Shimmering Kanto set, the Base Set Dratini, the Reverse Holo Dratini from Blazing Forces- all of them! Why- how- _why_?

“Called in a few favors from some buddies of mine,” Soldier: 76 said behind him by way of explaining. “You should probably open the other one.”

Hanzo set aside the frame as if it were a precious heirloom and opened the second package.

Dragonairs. Nothing but Dragonairs as far as his eye could see, safely sealed away behind glass. All of them. Even the Base set, carefully tucked away at the very top left.

Something wet hit the glass and Hanzo realized with a start that he was crying.

He straightened from his hunched position, determined to leave as soon as possible and save himself from much embarrassment. But a set of arms around his biceps prevented him from taking more than an aborted step forward, the framed cards shaking in his tight grasp.

“Hey man... you okay?” Lucio- it was Lucio who held him, firmly but comfortingly. His chin had hooked over Hanzo’s shoulders, even as Jesse stepped forward to shield Hanzo from the rest of the group with his bulk and his serape.

“It’s alright if you ain’t. Just say so. You ain’t gotta hide it from us.” Too kind. They were- one and all- far too kind. Genji came up on Hanzo’s other side and move his head to that metallic shoulder. All three of them were too kind. He shouldn’t cry, crying was for the weak-

“Let go, anija,” Genji murmured ever so softly in their native tongue.

Hanzo wasn’t ever sure the deluge would stop... but he felt a lot better when it finally did.

\- - - - -

The mall. The food court. The babble of people and the strain on his nerves. Hanzo sighed and shook his head, still on the lookout for any potential threats. However... this was nice. A nice change of pace. Having his brother laughing with Mei. Hana heckling Lucio to try something spicy and Lucio denying her just to watch her try even harder. Where did he fit in all of this? Surely not with them. He would never fit with them, merely keep to the sidelines as he had-

He clutched the Gyarados charm under the table and counted to ten. No. He had to stop thinking like this. They cared about him, but wished to give him the space he so desperately craved. That is why they did not force him to join the conversations. That is why they all went in to the Pokemon Center together. That is why Hana bought a bunch of Pokemon plushies- at least two of each- to hide his own small purchases within. The booster boxes of Blinding Darkness had been expensive, but fortunately no one had commented on them, nor of the card sleeves with the latest starters on the back. He would get home and quietly shelve one of the boxes, where he now stored all of the other unopened boxes of cards. The other three he would open, appraise the set and search online for the rest that he did not have. He would see if he could not draft a deck out of the commons and uncommons in the meantime however. And it went without saying that any holo rares, full arts and secret rares would go into a double sleeved configuration before being pushed into a binder with all of the rest of his expensive cards.

The Dratini, Eevee and Porygon plushies would find homes on a different shelf. He would not sleep with them, but he would look at them and they would bring him comfort in a way he had not had in a long time.

He jumped out of his reverie when a box slid over to him to land before his untouched yakisoba. Though Genji had his mask and visor on, he still tilted his head in the omnic way to indicate a smile. “Ready to get trounced at your favorite card game, brother?” Genji asked before pulling out a similar box. Two preconstructed decks. That little shit. When did he buy them?

“I am never second best,” Hanzo merely replied, setting aside his untouched food to pull open the cardboard and fish out everything they would need to begin a game of the Pokemon trading card game.

It was heady, having the entirety of their attentions focused on him as Hanzo and Genji squared off, laughter ringing out clearly as ‘blows’ were exchanged; prizes were won and Genji lost miserably. Too long he had been alone with his thoughts. Now at least... now with some common ground, Hanzo and his brother could begin to heal.


End file.
